


To the One I Burned in Trost

by thalia_muse_of_comedy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Death, Friendship, Love, M/M, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:13:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalia_muse_of_comedy/pseuds/thalia_muse_of_comedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post ch. 50 ish. Jean decides to write a letter to his deceased best friend, Marco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the One I Burned in Trost

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is my first post, so please be gentle. I'm not too sure on the exact time line of everything in SnK, so imagine this takes place after ch.50

_Dear Marco,_

_It’s been about a month since you died. Standing in front of that bonfire, I watched what was left of you burn away and mingle with the ashes of so many other bodies.  Did you see me choose the survey corps? Are you happy with my choice, or would you have preferred me to join the Military Police as planned? I just couldn’t do it, you know? Not without you. I chose the survey corps because maybe I’d be able to do some good, for once. I want to be able to stand tall if there is an afterlife I can see you in. Or maybe, I’m just running straight towards Death’s arms like that idiot Eren._

_I dream about you every night, like some lovesick girl. You’re just there, beside me, as if you never left. More often than not, I dream about the nights we spent talking about the future. We were going to be as close to luxury as any soldier could hope for, away from all the death and pain we ended up seeing in Trost. I dream that you joined the survey corps with me, like an idiot. Once, you told me my horse and I share an uncanny resemblance. When I woke up I remembered it was actually Eren that said I had a horse face, damn him. Sometimes, I’ll go to bed as soon as possible just so I can be with you longer. When I have nightmares of the ways you could of died, I stretch my arm out try to find you. Then, I realize the 104 th training corps graduated a long time ago and your bed is no longer next to me. Some other kids are sleeping where we used to whisper in each other’s ears._

_Are you an angel now, Marco? Even if you’re not, I still pray to you when we leave the walls. To be honest, I thought I was done for a couple times when we went to go try to catch the Female Titan, that bitch Annie. Did she kill you, Marco? No one in the survey corps speculates it out loud, but we all think she did. She took your goddamn gear after she… Why did she kill you? I’d ask her myself, but she was so hard to beat, and in the end she hid herself in crystal. I wore through six blades trying to get her out to make her face what she has done. You’re not the only one she killed._

_I’m weak like you said, Marco. When I go up against a titan, I wonder if I could just give up, and just hope I’m a good enough person to meet you again. However, I can never just let it happen. Am I weak for wanting to die or for always ducking out at the last second? I want to see you. I don’t want to face you. Why did we separate in Trost? I replay the whole day in my mind, to the point I get sick over it. Maybe if I were a stronger person, you would still be here._

_But I cannot go back to that day; I can never save you. You were so kind and honest. I’m an asshole, a scared asshole. I never deserved your friendship, but you stood beside me and watched over me. I’m a selfish bastard asking you to spend your afterlife protecting me, but I promise I’ll try to be stronger if you do. I’ll do my best to be kind, even to a dumbass like Eren._

            _So, Marco, watch over me._

_Maybe life will be different the next time around._

_Wait for me,_

_Jean Kirschtein_

He finally put down the pen, he could not write anymore. He felt deader inside than when he had begun the letter to his deceased best friend. He reread his words on the piece of parchment. He did not know why he had subjected himself to this specific kind of torture, the kind that burned as if he were on the burnt out pyre that had held Marco’s body. He held the painful letter to the candle, letting it burn away even when the flames lick the tips of his fingers. Tears slowly roll down to his chin.If anyone were to ask him, he would claim it was because he had carelessly burned his left hand.


End file.
